


From There To Here

by ghostboi



Series: Not What It Seems [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mostly Smut, POV Dean Winchester, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam belongs to Dean damnit, Smut, Wincest - Freeform, better than pie, dean wants to dig up the shapeshifter who hurt sam and stab him again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:26:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4764917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostboi/pseuds/ghostboi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam flinches every time Dean touches him. Dean wants to fix it but then finds out he's making the wrong assumptions. Also, screw you Not-Real-Dean, those should be Real-Dean's marks on Sam's throat. (aka Smut.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	From There To Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gavin's bossy face](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Gavin%27s+bossy+face).



> The summary sucks but I'm tiiiiired. *falls over*  
> Smut. Porn. Wincest. Mentions past rape/non-con.
> 
> [Gav insisted on a Dean POV aftermath bit. Psh, so bossy. <3]

It had been almost a week since Dean had kicked in the door of a cheap motel room to rescue his brother. Almost a week since he had found Sam tied to a bed and being _used_ by.. himself. No, not himself, but by something wearing his face.

Almost a week and Sam swore he was fine, but Dean knew better. 

His brother couldn’t seem to look him in the eye for more than a few seconds now. The younger man still had hickeys, faded now but there, on his neck. Bruises, reminders of the shapeshifter. He flinched every time Dean entered his personal space for any reason. He pulled away any time Dean touched him. Dean knew why and he understood: still, it hurt to see his brother afraid of him like that.

He cast a glance at the bigger man, whom was asleep in the passenger seat, as he pulled the car into the parking lot of another roadside motel. He shifted the Impala into park and cut the engine, and Sam woke with a start.

“Wha’sup?” his brother asked groggily, sitting up and looking around, “We there?”  
Dean couldn’t help the smile that touched his mouth at his brother’s sleep-rumpled hair. The straw paper stuck to Sam’s cheek also helped, of course. He reached out and pulled the paper off, wadding it between his fingers, as he answered, “Got us a room for the night. I’m beat, and I don’t think you’re up for another round behind the wheel.” He opened the door and climbed out of the car, taking a moment to stretch his aching body. He grabbed the duffel bags out of the backseat as Sam climbed out of the passenger side. After making certain Baby was locked up, he led the way to their motel room.

Sam was in the shower a short while later, and Dean was perched on the bed closest to the door. He was sitting back against the headboard, remote in one hand and pint of whiskey in the other, and his gun beneath his pillow. His eyes shifted to the bathroom as he heard the water cut off, before returning to ‘Ghostbusters’ on the television. 

Things had been a little awkward since that night Dean had kicked in that motel room door. He supposed it was hard to avoid awkwardness with your brother when you busted in on someone who was identical to you fucking that brother. He took a drink from the pint he held, watching Bill Murrey’s character strut across the screen. 

Sam exited the bathroom a short while later, clothed in sleep pants and a t-shirt and hair damp. The man cast him a quick glance before moving to the other bed and the duffel bag on it. The big man’s eyes flicked to the television as Dean snorted at one of the ghosts flying across the screen. Dean shot his brother a glance – Sam met his gaze for a moment before looking away. The older man suppressed a sigh; instead he motioned to the television and asked, “Wanna watch?” 

Sam was silent for a moment, shoving his discarded clothing in his duffel, before nodding yes. He shoved his duffel to the foot of his bed and seated himself back against the headboard. Dean leaned across the space between the beds and offered him the pint he held: after a moment, Sam accepted it. He took a quick swig and handed it back, then turned his attention to the movie. 

Dean studied his brother for a moment – Sam was chewing on a fingernail, eyes on the television – before sliding down to lay on the bed, pillow propping his head so he could watch the action on the screen.

 

He was pulled from his sleep as a sound penetrated his subconscious. Dean opened his eyes and blinked against the darkness, trying to place it. He heard it again and his gaze shot to his brother’s bed. He could barely see Sam’s outline through the small amount of light cast through a crack in the window blinds, but he could see enough to tell that his brother was huddled beneath his blanket, facing Dean. After a minute, his eyes began to adjust to the dim light and he could make out Sam’s face. 

The older Winchester sat up in his bed, causing the bed springs to creak, and studied the sleeping man in the other bed. His brother stirred in his sleep; Dean heard him mumble incoherently, then he heard his own name spoken. His brows furrowed as Sam murmured his name again and let out a soft moan. Fear? Pain? He wasn’t certain. Was his brother dreaming about him? That he was hurting him? Or maybe he was dreaming about the shape-shifter again (he had several times since that night) or that night in that motel. The thought unsettled him, created an unpleasant, almost queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Dean slipped out of his bed as Sam muttered in his sleep. He moved to his brother’s side and studied his face for a moment. He reached a hand toward the younger man but hesitated. After a second’s pause, he allowed his fingers to brush a lock of hair from the other man’s forehead.

He didn’t know how to fix this. He hadn’t even done it himself – it had been a creature which had stolen his face that had caused his brother harm – but he felt responsible. Sam was his responsibility, always had been. His to look after, and care for, and make certain was safe. He knew that Sam was old enough to care for himself – hell, they had been taking care of themselves since they were little kids. He was as tough as Dean and built like a brick tower. Still.. he was Dean’s and the older man would always feel responsible for his well-being. His physical well-being, at least. 

Dean raised his eyes from the bed covers, to Sam’s face, as he heard the sleeping man sigh. It was then that he realized he was carding his fingers through the other’s hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp. He shook his head, a wry smile touching his lips, and started to pull his hand away. Sam opened his eyes as he was untangling his fingers from the man’s surprisingly soft locks.

Dean paused for a moment, then whispered, “Hey Sam. Sorry I woke you.”  
“Feels good, Dean,” the other murmured sleepily, blinking up at him.  
“Yeah?”  
Dean carded his fingers through Sam’s hair again, and Sam sighed softly. He tipped his head into Dean’s touch as Dean scratched his nails lightly against the other’s scalp again.  
“Mm,” Sam’s eyes slipped closed again, “Dean?”  
“Yeah?”  
“D’you..” a pause, those hazel eyes open and locked on him, “Do you think I’m a.. a freak?” 

Dean stared at his brother for a second, brows furrowed, “Of course not.”  
A realization struck him, and he asked, “Is that what that – that thing – told you?” 

“Maybe,” his brother’s eyes were closed again, sleep-heavy voice barely audible, “I understand if you do.”

“I don’t,” he repeated firmly, anger at the dead shape-shifter coursing through him. That monster had filled Sam’s head with those thoughts on top of raping him? If he wasn’t dead and buried in a shallow grave already, Dean would have shoved a knife through his heart again.

 

Two days later, they were in Colbran, Colorado (population 705, according to the “You Are Now Entering --” sign). They had just finished a case – a salt and burn of a pissed off poltergeist – and both had walked away with a few bruises that would leave them sore in the morning. 

The brothers stopped by their room long enough to shower and change clothes before grabbing lunch at a burger joint near the motel. The day was warm but not excessively so, so they ate out on the patio, which had a view of a nearby lake.

It was Sam who suggested a walk down to the dock at the lake shore: Dean, happy to have his brother speaking to him without looking like he wanted to flee, had readily agreed. 

Dean was leaning against the railing a short while later, staring out at the lake. His eyes shifted to his brother, whom was sitting on a bench nearby. The man’s head was tilted back – Dean could see faint bruises marking his exposed throat – and his eyes were closed against the sunlight. 

He swallowed hard and averted his gaze to stare out at the water again. It infuriated him to see those marks on Sam’s throat, marks left by the shape-shifter. It infuriated him to know that the damn thing had touched his brother, marked him, done far more to him. And on some fucked up level, Dean was jealous. Not of what the shifter had done to Sam, or how he had done it. The thing had taken his brother without his consent and that was not okay (and he wanted to go back, dig the shifter up, and ram a knife through his skull for it). He was jealous that it was fake-Dean’s marks on his brother’s neck, and not his own. 

He shook his head, bent to pick up a handful of pebbles. He straightened and tossed one of the small rocks out onto the lake, watching it skip across the water. 

“Show-off.”

He glanced at his brother with a smirk at the other’s declaration and found Sam’s eyes on him. They locked gazes for a brief moment before Sam averted his gaze to look out at the water. Dean did the same, tossing another pebble and sending it skipping across the surface.

Two hours later, they were parked in front of their motel room again. “I am ready to get out of this place,” Dean muttered, climbing out of the car and heading for their room. He unlocked the door and headed into the room, pausing and half-turning as he heard Sam mumble behind him, “Shit.” 

“What’s wrong?” His eyes assessed his brother, and he spotted blood dripping down the other man’s forearm, “What happened?” 

“Caught my arm on a nail in the door frame,” Sam answered as he headed for the bathroom, other hand cupped over his arm to catch the dripping blood. Dean followed, watched as the other turned on the faucets and stuck his arm beneath the running water. He could tell that the cut, which was several inches long, wasn’t in need of stitches, but it would need a band-aid or three.

He retrieved the first aid kit from his duffel bag and turned for the bathroom, just as Sam exited. “Have a seat,” he motioned to the room’s couch, “I’ll fix that up for you.” He saw Sam hesitate for a second before the other said,  
“I can do it.”  
Dean raised a brow, and Sam sighed and took a seat on the couch. He followed with the first-aid kit and knelt on the floor in front of him. He rifled through the kit for a moment, pulling out several large, white gauze squares and some medical tape. He laid those on his brother’s knee and reached for a small bottle of alcohol. “Gonna sting,” he warned, popping open the lid and pouring a bit of it over the cut. When that was finished, he picked up a gauze square and wiped the alcohol and blood away. He tossed it aside and snatched up a second one, which he placed over the cut. 

Dean raised his eyes to Sam as the other flinched at his touch. It was almost imperceptible, but he felt it. He frowned slightly, dropped his eyes back to the wound. He finished applying the medical tape to hold the gauze in place, then took hold of Sam’s wrist and turned it, inspecting the rope burn, which was nearly completely healed. He ran his thumb lightly over the faded, yellow-brown bruises that remained, and again Sam flinched. 

Dean released his brother’s wrist abruptly and ran a hand through his hair. He raised his eyes to Sam, saw the other watching him warily, and felt a sharp pang in his chest. He grabbed up the first aid kit and discarded gauze and stood, stepping away from his brother. He tossed the first aid kit on the bed before turning to look at the other. 

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“For what?” his brother shot him a bewildered look.

“For what that fucker did to you. While – while parading around as me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair and noted, “He hurt you. He.. he did ..things to you, while wearing my face. You – I can’t even touch you without scaring you now. I’m – I should have been there sooner. I should have stopped it.” 

“You did stop it.” Sam fidgeted where he sat, his gaze shifting between Dean and the floor, “You – you got there and you stopped him.”

“Not soon enough. I should have done more, Sam. I –“ Dean swallowed hard, “You’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not,” the other man shook his head now, eyes meeting Dean’s green gaze, “I’m not afraid of you.” 

“You flinch every time I touch you. You get this terrified look in your eyes every time I’m near you.” Dean shook his head, rubbed his hand over his mouth, “I’m sorry.”

“It's not you!” Sam shoved himself to his feet and ran a hand through his hair, eyes flitting over everything but Dean, "I’m not _afraid_ of you. I’m afraid of..” The other stopped speaking, eyes on the floor as he twisted his hands together nervously. 

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid of how I’ll react,” Sam met his gaze, “It.. the shifter was right, Dean! About me. He said I was – that I wanted –“ The younger man swallowed hard before finishing, “Every time you touch me, I .. I just want _more_." 

Dean stared, stunned: he hadn't expected to hear _that_ from his brother. “You.. what?” 

"You should have left me to him," Sam's hands were shaking as he ran one over his face, "he was right, I'm.. sick and.. and fucked up."

"I should have --? No! Never! What the hell, Sam?" He ran a hand through his own hair, trying to process what he had just heard. His heart was racing, mind trying to wrap around this new discovery. Sam wanted him? He wasn't repulsed by his touch because of what the shifter had done, as Dean had feared? His brother _wanted_ him?

"I know it's fucked up and I'm sorry," his brothers voice was miserable, barely a whisper.

"Sam.."

The younger man shook his head and whispered, unshed tears in his eyes, “I know it’s wrong. I know I’m fucked up, but I don’t know how to make it stop. I’m – I’m sorry I’m so – so messed up.”

“Where you going?” he demanded as he watched Sam snag a jacket off the back of a chair and head for the door. 

“I need to be alone for a while,” the other shot back, jerking open the door and leaving the room. It was shut with a resounding slam, and Dean ran a hand through his hair and muttered ‘fuck’ beneath his breath.

He was halfway through a pint of whiskey several hours later. Seated on the room’s shoddy sofa, bottle in one hand and some cheap porn on the television. Was this really his life? Waiting on his brother to return, half-fearing the other man wouldn’t, getting drunk alone with porn to keep him entertained? He snorted and shook his head, raising the bottle to his mouth: sounded about right. 

An hour after that and the empty pint bottle was on the couch next to him. Another porn was playing, his jeans were undone, and his cock was in his hand as he leisurely stroked himself. 

Dean’s gaze flitted to the door as it opened and his brother entered the motel room. The other man had no more than stepped inside when he spotted Dean and froze. The surprise on his face was almost comical – almost – as Sam stared at him.

He could feel his cheeks flushing but ignored his own embarrassment to ask, “Mind closing the door?” Sam reached back for it almost blindly and caught hold of it to push it shut as he asked,

“What – what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

His brother swallowed hard, gaze shifting to him for a moment before looking away. “Do – do you have to – to do that here? Now?”

“I can stop,” he murmured, eyes slipping shut as he brushed a thumb over the head of his cock, sending shivers of pleasure through his body. He opened them again and found that Sam was still watching him from his spot by the door, eyes locked on his hand. “That what you want?”

“I – uh..” Sam blinked and looked away, “Yeah. You – “ his gaze shifted to Dean again – the flush on his face was impossible to miss – before looking away, “You should stop.” 

Dean closed his eyes, soft groan escaping his throat as he gave his cock a squeeze; when he opened them, he found that the other man was staring at his moving hand again. He gave himself another squeeze, biting his lower lip in pleasure, before forcing his hand off his dick. Sam’s gaze rose to meet his, and Dean muttered a breathless ‘fuck’ as the other licked his lips, pupils dilated. When his brother’s gaze dropped to his still-exposed dick again, he asked, voice husky,

“Wanna watch me, Sammy?”  
He trailed his fingers up the length of his hard shaft, and his brother swallowed hard and nodded yes. The look Sam shot him immediately after was panicked, fearful, but Dean only smiled and wrapped his fingers around his cock again. He began stroking himself again, a low hum of pleasure escaping his chest.

When he raised his eyes to Sam again, the man had taken several steps closer, but was still half a room’s length away. Sam’s fists were clenched at his side, teeth biting into his lower lip and his eyes on the hand Dean was using to stroke himself. He shifted down slightly on the sofa, spreading his legs a bit more to allow his brother a better view. Sam’s lips parted as he drew a sharp breath, his tongue sneaking out to lick them. Dean’s cock gave a twitch at the sight, and he growled softly. His brother was flushed slightly with embarrassment, captivated by what he was watching, and he was one of the hottest things Dean had ever seen.

“Come here, Sammy,” his voice was low, husky, and Sam started at the sound of it. The other met his gaze, gauged his expressions and was probably trying to map out his probable reactions: after a moment, the man obeyed and crossed the room to stand in front of him.

Dean raised his eyes to his brother’s face and shot him a smirk: he licked his lips and saw the shudder that ran through the other man. He stroked himself slowly, raising his hips slightly to push into his fist as he did. Having his brother’s eyes on him made it that much hotter and him that much harder, he realized.

“Kneel down here,” he instructed, eyes locking with Sam’s again and voice wrecked, “Watch me get off, baby.” 

Sam obeyed and sank to his knees almost instantly, just inches from Dean’s own knee. The younger man’s eyes were locked on his hand again and he gave a twist of his wrist, sending pleasure shooting through him and causing him to pump up into his fist again. A sound that was almost a whimper escaped his brother’s throat and Sam’s fingers brushed his calf. The other seemed to realize he was touching, for he started to pull his hand away. He paused as Dean whispered, “Leave it,” and, after a moment’s hesitation, obeyed. 

The only sound for several minutes was the sound of Dean stroking himself and their breathing. Sam started slightly, tearing his eyes from Dean’s hand to his face, as the elder Winchester murmured, “Like watching, baby boy?” 

The younger man flushed, eyes averted; he swallowed hard before nodding yes. “That – “ Sam’s voice was almost a whisper, “That makes me – sick, right? I.. we’re brothers..”  
His hazel gaze lifted to Dean’s as Dean answered, “I like you watching me. Turns me on. So if it does, then we’re both sick pervs. Would love to watch you jerk off, sweetheart.”

Sam flushed again and looked away for a moment. His gaze returned to Dean as the older man instructed, “Look at me, Sammy.” Dean hummed in pleasure, grip on his cock tightening, as he ran his eyes over his brother. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured, giving his cock a hard stroke, “You have any idea how many times I’ve had to tell myself to keep my hands off you? To leave the room because you’ve made me hard as hell?” 

Dean’s eyes slid shut in pleasure as he felt Sam’s fingers brush up his calf and behind his knee. The younger man hesitated at his thigh, and Dean whispered, “Fuck, Sammy. Anything you want. Do it.” He dropped his head back against the couch, eyes closed and a low moan escaping him, as Sam’s fingers brushed along the inside of his thigh. Moments later, Sam’s hand was covering his on his dick, moving with him as he stroked himself. When the other’s thumb brushed over his cockhead, Dean groaned, “Fuck!” and thrust hard into his fist. Sam was pushing his hand away then, pulling it off his cock despite his whine of protest; a moment later, the younger man’s hand was replacing it.

Dean groaned his brother’s name as Sam’s fingers wrapped tight around his dick and began stroking him. It lasted for several strokes before Sam slipped his hand down to gently cup his balls: Dean gasped in pleasure as the other began to fondle them, squeezing and tugging lightly. Then Sam was stroking him again, long, firm strokes, and Dean wanted to cum on the spot. 

He opened his eyes as he felt Sam raising up on his knees to lean into him, eyes falling to the younger man’s mouth. When Sam asked, “Can I suck you?”, voice hesitant as if he was afraid he was going to be pushed away, Dean nearly lost it. He breathed out a “fuck” as he reached down to cover Sam’s hand with his own, making the other grip the base of his cock hard. He reached for his brother with his other hand, tangling his fingers in Sam’s hair and pulling him to him. Sam whimpered softly as Dean claimed his mouth, kissing him hungrily and sliding his tongue in to taste him. When he was finished mapping the other’s mouth with his tongue, he pulled back and growled, 

“Anything you want, baby boy. Suck me, fuck me, ride me. Anything you want.” 

“Oh god,” Dean’s head fell back against the couch again as Sam’s tongue trailed up his shaft. “Sammy, fuck.” He bucked up against the other man’s lips as that surprisingly talented tongue licked around the head of his cock, slipping into the slit to tease him. His brother’s lips wrapped around his cockhead, sucking hard as his tongue teased him, and Dean just knew he was going to lose it any second. He couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up into Sam’s hot mouth, and his brother took more of him in, sucking hard. A shudder racked Dean’s entire body; he opened his eyes as Sam suddenly pulled off him.

Dean watched, lust-addled and dick leaking copious amounts of precum, as his brother pushed himself to his feet. The younger man undid his jeans, shoved them off his hips to reveal his own hard body and stiff cock: after kicking them off, the younger man moved to straddle his lap. 

Dean let out a grunt of pleasure and a breathless “fuck yeah, baby,” as Sam sat on his lap to straddle his throbbing cock. He thrust up against the other man, rubbing himself against Sam’s perfect ass. 

“Wanna fuck you, baby boy.”

Sam leaned in to nip at his ear, and Dean growled softly. His brother sucked at his earlobe for a minute before he whispered,  
“Want you to fuck me, Dean. Want you to make me yours. Want.. “  
The other hesitated, and Dean growled, “Tell me.”

“Want you to – to treat me like -“ Sam bit his bottom lip, “-like the dirty whore I am.”  
“Fuck,” Dean growled yet again, grabbed his brother to jerk him close and seal his mouth against Sam’s. He ravaged the other’s mouth with his tongue for long minutes, claiming him and learning his taste. When he finally pulled away, he ground up against Sam’s bare ass and growled, “My whore. Won’t share you. I’ll fucking kill anyone else who touches you. You’re _mine_.” 

“Yes,” Sam moaned and ground down against his cock, “Fuck yes, Dean. Please.. please make me take it. Make me yours.”

“How do you want it, baby? You want it rough?”

Another moan as Sam nodded yes. “Use me,” the other whispered, “Use me, Dean, please, please.”

Shit. His little brother was going to kill him. Dean was certain he was going to explode with lust, and it would be the younger man’s fault. He raised two fingers to his mouth to suck them; he watched, breathing unsteady, as Sam pulled them into his mouth instead. The younger man began to suck them, licking at them and wetting them with his saliva. Dean growled and jerked them free from his mouth after a minute, swiping his thumb along Sam’s bottom lip as he did. 

He ran his hand down Sam’s back, down over his perfect, firm ass, to brush a spit-soaked finger down his crack. “Sure about this, Sammy?”  
His brother nodded, grinding down against his dick and whispering, “Yes. Please, yes.”  
Dean complied and slipped his fingers lower, brushing against his brother’s tight opening. Sam whimpered and pressed back against his hand, and he chuckled in the younger man’s ear. “Easy, little brother. We’ll get there. Not going to hurt you, though.”

The moan Sam made when he began to press a finger into him sent a jolt straight through Dean’s cock. He muttered a curse and froze as he tried to maintain control of himself; he meant it when he said he wasn’t going to hurt his brother. After a few deep breaths, he slipped his finger deeper, easing into the other man. 

“Want your cock,” Sam wrapped an arm around his neck, pressed back against his exploring fingers, “More, Dean, please.” 

“I will, baby,” he soothed, brushing his mouth against Sam’s jawline, “I’ll give you everything you want. We’ve got all night.”

“Want you now,” Sam’s breath was a ragged sigh as Dean began to thrust into him with his finger. 

He chuckled at the younger man’s impatience; a full-body shudder coursed through Sam as Dean’s breath ghosted over his ear. “Fuck, you’re hot,” the older man murmured, slipping a second finger in beside the first.  
Sam moaned, head falling forward to rest against Dean’s shoulder, as he began to scissor his fingers, pressing in and out, working him open. He brushed a fingertip against the other’s prostate, and Sam cried out softly in pleasure and arched hard against him.

Dean mouthed along Sam’s jawline as he pressed in a third finger minutes later. He worked them in with slow thrusts, opening the other up and drawing soft gasps of pleasure from him. 

“That shifter do this to you?”

Sam went still at the question and, for a moment, Dean was certain he had just killed the whole deal, so to speak. He mentally cursed himself – it seemed to be a painful subject for Sam, still, and he had just dove into it headfirst. His eyes met Sam’s as the other raised his head and answered, “Yeah. He – he was rougher, though.” His brother arched back against his hand, shoving Dean’s fingers deeper, as he spoke the words.

“You like it rough.” It was an observation, not a question. The flush that touched the younger man’s cheeks made Dean want to devour him in more ways than one. His brother nodded, shooting him an almost shy glance, and he growled softly and pulled him closer, pressing his fingers in deeper.

“Dean, fuck,” Sam breathed against his ear, “Feels so good.”  
“Feel good when he did it?”  
Sam nodded, and a low growl escaped Dean’s throat. Sam was _his_ , damnit.  
“Thought it was you,” Sam moaned softly, riding his fingers now, “Thought you were fucking me. Told me I was.. I was a freak, I was sick, but I wanted more. Wanted everything you would give me.”

“He was wrong. And I’m gonna give it all to you, baby,” the older man promised, brushing his fingers against Sam’s prostate and causing the other to cry out and rock back against his hand. He teased his brother for a minute longer before slipping his fingers free – the other whimpered in protest as he did. 

“C’mon,” he murmured, leaning in to nip hard at the throat which was exposed in front of him, “Lube’s by the bed. Gonna do this right. Get your pretty ass up so I can fuck it proper.” 

The younger man obeyed, slipping off of Dean’s lap; he moaned and swayed forward as Dean reached out and grasped his cock. “Good,” the older man murmured in approval as the younger began to thrust into his hand, “Good boy.” He leaned forward and, before Sam could react, took the younger man’s cock in his mouth, sliding his lips around the head and sucking. 

Sam’s cry of pleasure sent jolts through Dean, and he had to grip his own dick tightly to keep from coming. Yeah, this kid was definitely going to do him in tonight. 

Five minutes later, Sam was on his hands and knees on the bed and Dean was slipping three well-lubed fingers into his perfect ass. He finger-fucked the younger man until Sam was riding back against his hand, begging to be fucked. Dean pulled his fingers free and grasped his own dick: he lined it up against Sam’s hole and, with a low growl, began to push into the tight opening. He had just pushed the head past the tight ring of muscles when he had to stop to regain control of himself. Sam wasn’t helping much in that regard: the other was rocking back against him, trying to take more of him. Dean grabbed the other’s hips and dug his fingers in, stilling his movements. 

“Want you to mark me, Dean,” Sam glanced over his shoulder at him, pupils blown with lust and breathing unsteady, “Want you to leave bruises. Show everyone I’m yours.”

“Fuck,” Dean shoved in deep, drawing out a low moan of ecstasy from the other, “Fucking right you’re mine. I’ll kill anyone else who touches you.” He pulled out, shoved back in, rocking Sam forward with the force. “Fucking mean it, Sam. You’re mine.”

He began thrusting in earnest as Sam nodded yes and murmured “Yours,” rocking in and out of his brother as he set up a steady, hard rhythm. “He fucked you hard?” he demanded: they both knew he was referring to the shapeshifter. 

“Yeah,” Sam moaned, head falling forward as he rocked back against him, “Yeah, felt so good.” Dean tightened his grip on his brother and slammed his hips hard into the other, driving his cock deep. The sound Sam made sent a shudder of lust and pleasure through him. “Called me his whore,” the younger man told him, glancing over his shoulder at him, “Said I was his.” 

Dean growled, low and dangerous. He was going to go dig that motherfucker out of the ground and cut him into pieces. Scatter him all over the fucking country. He turned his full focus to his brother, fingers digging into the other’s hips – without a doubt, Sam was going to have bruises in the morning. 

“You’re mine,” Dean pushed the other down so that he was lying on his chest, hips in the air. He leaned over his brother’s back, bit down hard on his shoulder and drew a cry of pain-pleasure from Sam, “That fucker can rot in hell. You’re mine, have been from the day you were born. You were fucking made to be mine.”

Sam nodded almost frantically, rocked back hard against him, “Only yours, Dean, I swear. Only yours. I belong to you, noone else.” 

“Mine,” Dean reached around to grab his brother’s cock and stroke it, “My good boy. Fuck, Sammy, you’re so good for me.” He nipped at the other’s neck, hard enough to bruise the skin, before sinking his teeth into Sam’s shoulder. The other cried out in pleasure, shudders running through him, and began to come. He caught Sam’s almost-whispered, “Love you, Dean,”, and those breathless words pushed him over his precarious edge of control. He began to come with a cry of Sam’s name, his fist tightening around Sam’s dick and drawing another spurt of hot come out of the younger man as he did. 

Dean planted kisses along Sam’s spine as he caught his breath. The other made a sound of protest when he slowly pulled out, and he chuckled and smacked him on the ass. Sam’s face was flushed when the younger man sat up to face him, and he was chewing on his bottom lip. He raised a gaze that was more than a little nervous to Dean, and Dean studied his face for several seconds. He reached out and caught his little brother by the hair and pulled him close for a thorough kiss; Sam’s moan against his mouth had his dick twitching in interest and him wondering if maybe he could go another round already.

When they parted, Dean brushed fingers down Sam’s cheek, before sliding his hand to the back of his neck. “My Sammy,” he murmured, leaning in for another quick kiss, “Meant what I said. Noone else touches you.” Sam’s nod of agreement, his genuinely happy smile, sent Dean’s heart dancing.

“Come on,” the older man stood and offered his hand to his brother, whom accepted, “Shower, then food, then I’m going to show you everything I’ve wanted to do to you since –“ He trailed off, swallowing hard, before finishing his confession, “- for a long fucking time.”

Sam pressed against him, lips against his neck, and Dean held him close.  
This right here, he decided, was better than anything else in the world. Pie included.


End file.
